Anointment
by themetaphornextdoor
Summary: "Cas likes to mark Dean." Dean/Castiel slash, PWP, NC-17, 692 Words.


**Title:** Anointment

**Author:** TheMetaphorNextDoor (formerly isasminion)

**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel

**Genre:** PWP

**Rating:** NC-17

**Word Count:** 692

**Warnings:** Oral, Come-Play, Slight Religious References

**Spoilers:** None

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters.

**Summary:** _Cas likes to mark Dean._

**Author Notes:** I'm still not entirely comfortable writing in present tense, but I think it works. Past tense comes naturally to me, but anything else I have to really concentrate on or it ends up a mess, lol. Let me know if you notice anything out of place. And enjoy!

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><p><strong><span>Anoint<span> - _To pour, smear or administer an oil or ointment to, often in a religious ceremony of blessing._**

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><p>If Dean could suck Cas down and watch his face at the same time, he'd be a happy man.<p>

As it is, the angle's too awkward. Especially as Cas throws his head back and arches off the bed, carefully keeping his hips still not to choke him.

All Dean can see is his chest rising and falling rapidly. His adam's apple bobbing as the angel tries to swallow down the sounds that threaten to spill out and inform everyone in a five mile radius just how good a blow job he's getting from Dean Winchester.

If he could grin smugly around Cas' cock without losing rhythm, Dean would be even happier. Despite the angry glare Cas would send him for stopping to smile in the middle of a _very enjoyable activity_.

The angel has a much sexier vocabulary now, thanks to Dean. There was only so much _copulation_ and _sodomy_ he could handle.

But Cas always finds ways to wipe those smug grins off his face anyway, and in all honesty, Dean isn't sure he minds.

A well placed lick and Cas arches back even further, hard nipples heave as though they're trying to touch the ceiling. He's like a cat, Dean thinks.

It gives him room to slip both hands beneath Cas to palm at the swell of his ass. Cas doesn't take advantage and buck his hips up like anyone else might.

He wants a blow job. He doesn't want to stop in the middle of it to resuscitate the righteous man.

He's close. One hand clenches painfully in Dean's hair, while the other falls to the sheets, gripping the fabric until his knuckles turn white.

Cas' chest falls back to the bed and he sits up quickly to watch as Dean pulls off him with a slick, obscene pop. Their eyes meet as the first hot spurts paint Dean's cheek, pumping over his parted mouth before dripping down his chin.

It's always this way. Dean can't watch Cas fall apart, but he always sees him come, finally trembling over the edge. It's a sight to behold, Cas' pupils swell wide at the last moment, skin flushing suddenly, struggling to keep his eyes on Dean as his mouth falls open. He might be noisy during sex, but Cas always comes silently. It's hotter than Dean thought it would be. The overwhelming feeling leaving the angel speechless, shocked like every time is his first. The expression on his face rivals any scene from any porn he's ever watched.

Dean doesn't know much about classical art, but he'd be willing to bet it would put even the most beautiful depictions of angels to shame too.

Cas wants it just like this, every time. He refuses any position in which he can't see Dean's face when he comes, can't brand him with everything he has to give in that moment of ecstasy.

He lifts his fingers to Dean's face and smears his come over Dean's stubble, swipes it across his forehead, nose and lips. Two sticky fingers wriggle into Dean's mouth and he sucks, swirling his tongue around the digits. The bitter, salty taste is almost too much, but it's _Cas' _taste.

And there's no way he'd miss the intense stare Cas gives him, coming down from the high inch by inch, flushed and marking him up with his release.

Cas fucks his wet fingers in and out over the flat of Dean's tongue before trailing them down to smear the mix of come and saliva over his chin.

The angel's hand drops limply to his thigh and a drop of hot sticky fluid dripping from Dean's jaw is enough to send him crashing over the edge. He thrusts and shoots against the sheets, even though the rough cotton on his sensitive skin is more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Slumping between Cas' legs, he collapses into the wet mess, barely registering the sharp hipbone digging into his temple.

Cas finally lets his head fall back against the pillow.

He closes his eyes and grins smugly.

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><p>~end<p> 


End file.
